


Tomorrow

by RhetoricFemme



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Aged up characters, F/M, Fluff, discussing the past, friends falling in love, heavy making out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/pseuds/RhetoricFemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solace is finding love with one of the oldest, most steadfast friends you've ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was just sitting there tonight, and all of a sudden Kyoya & Haruhi had so much to say. Boy howdy, it's been a long time.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed part one of two, and that you're doing well. Thanks for reading!

The room is quiet, save for the closing zip of Haruhi’s suitcase. The sound is succinct and to-the-point, much like the majority of her life these days. To put a brief halt in routine to support Holograph, the new fashion label created by their very own Kaoru, was no small thing for Haruhi, who sinks so easily into work when left to her own devices. Not that the rest of the former host club members were any different, and here they were now, each of them physically present to celebrate on Kaoru’s behalf.

And yes, more often than not, these days Haruhi is very much overcome by her own devices. Such is the enveloping nature of being a lawyer while chiseling away at glass ceilings. That isn’t to suggest she isn’t up to the challenge, or savoring the accolades that accompany success. In a move that would no doubt have surprised her mother as much as it would make her proud, Haruhi has chosen to focus on corporate law. It’s the sort of work that’s allowed her—a single, career-oriented woman just short of thirty—to allocate a portion of her earnings toward the demographics and causes her own mother had once championed.

Now, on the brink of returning to her self-fashioned daily grind, she’s pulled out of her reverie only after noticing a knock at her door. It’s a pleasant discovery to find Kyoya on the other side. Moving to the side, Haruhi gives him a once-over, comparing Kyoya’s broad, yet lithe figure to how he’d appeared in his younger, equally ambitious days. Making quick work of her assessment, Haruhi snaps her attention toward his eyes, lest she put herself into an awkward situation.

“I’d thought everyone else had already left.”

“Save for the twins, they have.” Kyoya confirms while heading straight for the window, arms relaxed across his chest. Always across his chest. “There was a flight delay, and I figured since we’re both still here I’d drop in and say goodbye.”

“You came in your own plane.”

He smiles now, not for having been caught playing with semantics, but simply for the deftness of Haruhi’s reply.

“Be that as it may, it’d be rude of me to still be lingering and not come by.”

She eyes him slowly, enjoying their banter, and the whimsical nature of his visit, especially since Haruhi knows full well that Kyoya Ootori does not do whimsical.

“Company is nice, thanks. I’m not due to leave for the airport for another hour or so.”

“You know, you and Mori are the only two that haven’t left Tokyo.”

Haruhi makes an affirmative noise. It’s a fact that hasn’t escaped her, either, and she is occasionally left wondering when or if she can expect visits home from any number of her old, longest running friends.

“Takashi’s been so good to have around, too. I guess we’re technically colleagues now, to boot, but I’m just thankful to have someone in my field whose judgment and objectives I always know I can trust.”

“Indeed.” Haruhi’s words contain such unquestionable clarity that it’s obvious she throws a mask over nothing. It’s enough that Kyoya almost feels guilty for probing in the first place, though it isn’t as if he harbors ill intentions.

“And you!” she chirps. “Last night you mentioned that you’re coming home to stay, so that had best mean we’ll be seeing more of you, too.”

“Ideally.” Kyoya drawls while making room for Haruhi, who finally strolls slowly up to the windowsill and makes herself comfortable beside him. “I imagine my time analyzing funds and sitting on the board for the Ootori Group is going to involve eighty hour work weeks, but I’m sure some of that work can be done independently alongside other workaholics who take their work home with them.”

“You can’t work all the time.”

“I see. And are you meant to be the pot or the kettle in this scenario?”

Haruhi’s laughter has long since endeared itself unto him, and now it serves to remind Kyoya how important it is to grasp onto even the smallest of pleasantries life has to offer.

For her part, Haruhi won’t pretend to have not noticed Kyoya’s proximity over the past several days; that even while there had been enough of everybody’s attention to go around, that somehow he would inevitably end up near her. Nor will Haruhi deny that she’d used this very observation as an excuse to place herself closer to him.

Had any of their friends taken notice, they’d chosen discretion over inquiry.

It all comes to a head, however, when reminiscing over the trip sparks Kyoya’s memory, and a sudden interest in testing a recently developed theory.

“I noticed this morning how Hikaru had been playing around with you.”

“Yeah? I can’t say I remember which particular moment since he’s almost always goofing around with me.”

“It was during talk of fittings and whatnot. You lauded him for not complaining about his mother having easier access to you than he does as a model, but the look on your face when he flicked a hand toward you was rather suspect. It was a bit a shock, is all.”

“Nah.” Her tone is dismissive and relaxed as she recalls the moment. Leaning her forearm against his, she lightly jostles Kyoya, who’s still intent on the scenery outside the window. “He knows I hate for anyone to touch my neck. I teased him, so he went ahead and teased back.”

“I see. I don’t seem to recall you having space issues before.”

“I don’t.”

“You just don’t want anyone touching your neck.”

“Pretty much.”

“Interesting.”

“If you say so.”

“I wonder then,” Challenge sparks grey eyes as Kyoya turns and effectively captures Haruhi’s attention. “If you disapprove of just _anyone_ touching your neck? Perhaps you might not mind if _someone_ were to, instead.”

He doesn’t wait for Haruhi to protest, as one hand gently sweeps the hair away from her shoulder, that he might lay a kiss above a delicate collar bone. One kiss is swiftly followed by another, his breath ghosting upward until his mouth rests beneath her ear.

Haruhi’s reaction is immediate, with one hand gripping the windowsill while the other grabs onto Kyoya’s wrist that rests on her shoulder. Petite fingers hold steady as they meld over top of his own, and Kyoya’s lips curve into a smile against her neck before breaking away.

No doubt it feels good to be right, but oh, how _this_ feels exponentially better.

Admiring the rose flush that’s taken her over from head to chest, Kyoya rests his forehead to Haruhi’s while one thumb works to dry where his lips previously lay. A moment passes wherein he does little more than stare into her eyes.

Years of friendship and correspondence run through his mind alongside the fascination of having Haruhi unflinchingly gaze right back into him. It’s all the gumption he needs to be the next to speak.

“If I were to ask you on a date, would you oblige me by waiting another six weeks?”

Though Kyoya stands firm, Haruhi can feel the unmistakable coil of tension in the hand resting beneath her own. She answers in little more than a whisper while slotting their fingers together.

“If you want to find out, you'll have to ask me.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein patience is a virtue. But then, so is a sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say Thank You to everyone who read, commented, or gave kudos to this story. I appreciate it immensely. :)

A woman of class and standard, Haruhi Fujioka has made herself a name built primarily on discipline, guts and rigor. She is not, however, without an adequate sense of flirtation or humor.

She makes Kyoya wait the six weeks.

More accurately, Kyoya sees Haruhi’s playful flirtation and raises her an outstanding demonstration of patience. It takes another gasp of her breath, one more kiss laid against eager lips and her soft, blushing cheek to declare his intention to ask for a date only once he’s firmly rooted back on Japanese soil.

Then again, that might not have been blush so much as indignation and mock anger gracing that face.

One would think this would sufficiently teach Haruhi to tease an Ootori, but really it’s likely only to incite a further sense of challenge.

Kyoya is counting on it.

What’s another six weeks, he implores while paying her eyes less attention than her neck, when he’s waited this long already?

Haruhi’s curiosity is piqued as she demands to know just how long it’s been, exactly, but is made to settle for a Cheshire cat grin and a ride to the airport.

Making a move for her sole piece of luggage, Kyoya stops short at the sound of Haruhi tsking him. So rarely does he face reprimand that it pauses him right in his tracks, only to watch on as she takes up the bag, instead.

“Apparently you haven’t even asked me on this date, yet. What reasonable expectation do I have that you should carry my luggage?”

“I’d like to think chivalry isn’t entirely dead, but have it your way.”

Shouldering the bag, Haruhi smiles triumphant while still expressing gratitude for his seeing her to the airport. “If you don’t mind sitting through afternoon traffic, that is.”

By now she’s speaking to Kyoya’s back, who currently has his hands shoved into pockets, his gait at ease when he looks back over one shoulder.

“Become stuck in traffic with you, Haruhi?” He goes on while passing through the door. “I can’t imagine what we’ll do.”

\---

Three Weeks Later

\---

“Peacocking!”

“Excuse me?” Haruhi’s confusion is unmistakable as she holds the phone several inches away from her ear. “Kaoru, quiet yourself and explain whatever the hell _peacocking_ means.”

Riotous laughter erupts on the other side of the line, as Kaoru humors whatever notion is currently playing throughout his mind. Obnoxious or not, Haruhi knows she needs somebody trustworthy to talk to, whose mirth might be at her expense, but is ultimately discreet and in support of her. She gives him a moment until finally, he resides at a more respectable decibel.

“Peacocking is when a guy attempts to impress the person he’s interested in.”

“Oh. Well that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it, though? You sound disappointed. I bet it’s working, and you being Haruhi, are as dense as ever and unable to see it.”

“He doesn’t have to try and impress me.”

“Right.”

“Kyoya won’t even talk about this alleged date we’re supposed to go on.” The pout in Haruhi’s voice manifests in her tossing a highlighter across the bed, which is presently covered in pieces of the case she’s been building. “He’s all _I asked you in Barcelona. Now you’ll have to wait since I’m not offering anything less than face-to-face._ ”

“’Alleged date’? Put your lawyer’s lexicon away for a while. You think he’s bluffing?”

“No. I’m just not used to him being so playful, is all.”

“He’s peacocking. Kyoya-style.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m allotting him bonus points on account of finding clever ways to mess with you.”

“He said he’d be fine waiting a while longer after all this time.” Haruhi’s voice drifts off, already feeling a little better for pulling Kaoru into this conversation. “I can’t even guess how long that’s supposed to mean.”

“High school, probably.”

Typically, she’d be likely to blurt her surprise in expletives, though now Haruhi finds herself breathing static onto the line, instead.

“I’m not saying anything, really.” Kaoru assures her. “I’m just spinning theories over here.”

“Seriously.”

She can hear Kaoru set something down, whatever project has been keeping his hands and interest lately, and his voice suddenly feels far more intimate in Haruhi’s ear.

“Seriously. I’m not saying he was in love with you or anything, but Tono’s health and happiness wasn’t the only thing on Kyoya’s mind.”

“Tamaki and I were never going to work for very long. We figured that out early enough, which is probably why we’ve stayed friends over the years.”

“Fair enough. And I might be your best friend, Haruhi, but don’t forget who spent practically all of first and second year buffering Kyoya’s side projects. Honestly, I don’t even think he realized you were closer to the front of his mind than the back of it.”

“Well then, why act on all of this more than a decade later?”

Kaoru makes a quizzical, absent-minded noise in reply. “Everyone’s gotta live life and such, yeah? Back then we were all so wrapped up in everything else on our plates. With us, relationship issues usually just got pushed off to the side, anyway.”

“Mm.”

“Anyways, who cares?! He’s peacocking for you _now_!”

“Stop using that word.”

“But I’m right.”

“Whatever. I’m not putting on anymore dresses for you.”

“Sure you will. You’ll come calling me, appreciative of my taste in clothing and discretion when you need an outfit for this elusive first date of yours.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Uh huh. Just don’t forget that you’re the one who called me.”

“I’m hanging up. Please tell Hikaru that today I love him more than you.”

\---

Another Two Weeks Pass By…                                                                                   

\---

One would imagine that living in anticipatory days might cause nights to drag by even longer. But then, it isn’t during the privacy of her evenings that memory of Kyoya’s hands creeps into Haruhi’s mind. It isn’t when the sun’s gone down and Haruhi finds herself alone that she best recalls a wisp of breath and the scent of musk. Or the way he seems to quietly growl when she allows herself to be pressed to the interior of the limousine.

At least, if she were to come by such memories throughout the night she’d be in a position to do something about it.

It’s a beautiful autumn day when Haruhi steps out on the winning end of a class action lawsuit, shoulders squared and staring straight ahead. It’s become her default posture when exiting the courtroom, knowing full well that her attention will be sought by various individuals, while her demeanor is deconstructed by others. It affords her a sense of confidence in knowing her nerves are unreadable.

Such a visage proves especially useful on days like this one, where Haruhi is living not so much in her moment of glory, but distracted by the countdown to Kyoya’s return, instead.

At this point it’s not simply the number of days, but her patience that is waning.

 _This hasn’t gotten out of hand_ , she tells herself time and again. _I deserve to have something—scratch that—someone to look forward to._

That’s what Haruhi had been telling herself.

At least up until now. Up to the point when she catches sight of a pair of broad, dignified shoulders in the lobby, only to think wistfully of how they remind her of Kyoya. At this point, Haruhi can no longer help but feel mildly pathetic.

_Oh._

Picking up the stride, Haruhi finds herself gently pushing through the small hustle of colleagues, guards and citizens with a renewed sense of purpose. She makes her way toward that same set of shoulders, where she waits for him to finish whatever business-oriented conversation now occupies the floor, with her arms across her chest and in demand of a damn interesting explanation.

“Welcome home.” She declares none too enthusiastically.

“Haruhi.” Annoyed at the present circumstances or not, there’s no denying the smile Kyoya flashes her, albeit briefly, is the sort of thing Haruhi’s more recent dreams are made of. Anyways.

“You’re back.”

“Sharp as ever, I see.” He teases while establishing them a path through the increasingly busy corridor. “No doubt that whip-smart intellect is serving you well. Aguni-san, back there, maybe not so much.”

“What do you know about Aguni Hideko?”

“Not much, really. Only that watching the arrogance wash from his face while you proceeded to skewer him was rather memorable.”

“You sat in on my case?!”

“Does that bother you? There’s no law against it.”

“Kyoya!”

“And watching you win, no less. Very thorough work, Haruhi. How embarrassing that the defense ever imagined having a chance.”

Her body language is indignant as she stands her ground while looking for an explanation. The softness within her eyes each time she looks at him, however, leaves Haruhi utterly betrayed.

“Haru.” Kyoya lowers his voice, whether for the personal nature of his comment or the fact that he’s never called her _Haru_ before, is a mystery. “I spent two days in Kyoto knocking down one pawn after another, and that’s not accounting for the research and formalities taken care of while still in the air. This morning consisted of another five hours in the back of a town car, overseeing paperwork and confirming various details. After all that, are you going to hold it against me if I choose to file my paperwork personally after a rather tall bird filled me in on your docket?”

Of course not. How could she? It’s only frustrating on account that both of them realize it; that Haruhi’s general obstinance is trumped only by her penchant for seeing Kyoya try and indulge himself on her.

Haruhi pinches the bridge of her nose, uncertain whether she prefers to kiss him or throw another insult, but is ultimately unable to do either.

“Do you plan on waiting around and playing coy some more? Finish out the week before asking me?”

Crossing his arms in mock superiority, Kyoya leans forward to tower over her. “Now that’s just asinine, Haruhi.”

Her response is little more than a noise indicating her disbelief.

There’s little time to ponder on the question, as Haruhi is gently pulled closer by her elbows. Moving them toward a nearby wall, Kyoya is quick to resume a respectable distance between the two of them, a gesture that is both noted and genuinely appreciated. This isn’t simply a public space, he acknowledges, but for Haruhi is entirely professional.

“Haruhi.”

“What.”

Her bluntness is painfully apparent, the charm of which Kyoya cannot refute. Not that he’s looking to try.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“Should I make you wait until I’m able to confirm whether or not I have any openings?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

This time it’s Haruhi who smiles first. It’s a demure brand of excitement, one reserved for only the closest of company she chooses to keep. It’s a sentiment Kyoya cannot help but return.

\---

One Month After That

\---

 

“ _Tamaki._ ”

The immediacy with which Kyoya lets go of her is nothing short of chilling, the feeling made complete by the way he stares at her now from the edge of the bed. Perhaps the only person to have seen so much of what resides on the other side of those infamous lenses, Haruhi is also likely the only one able to detail both ends of the spectrum.

“Not what I expected to hear.”

She’s quick in grabbing onto his elbow, intent to smooth the situation over before time adds fuel to Kyoya’s temper; before he’s granted even one moment to ruminate this false heartache.

“I don’t know if guys discuss each other’s sex lives.” She starts, “But knowing what a sap Tamaki is, and that you’re so close, I’ve always assumed you did. Or do.”

“Tamaki does, though he knows this is one place where I’m not much for reciprocity.”

“Right. What I’m trying to say is don’t be like Tamaki.”

“Meaning?”

“For all the effort he puts into being good at everything, to being good for people? He’s awfully skilled at missing everything that mattered to me. In the two years I was with him he learned what I like, but never gave much of himself. Which is what I wanted.”

“I see.”

Trailing her fingers down his arm, Haruhi leaves goosebumps in her wake before mindlessly rubbing the spot between Kyoya’s thumb and index finger. It’s nothing she’s ever done before, for Kyoya or anyone else, either by intuition or intention, but already it sends a wave of comfort and ease through both of them.

“I don’t care if you go fast or if you move slow.” She whispers. “Just show me you. That’s how you’ll please me.”

To say Kyoya burns is a gross understatement; an oversight to his credit as a confidante and lover, and what he means to do when he moves directly for Haruhi’s neck.

The sound she makes in response is not out of disappointment, but is more to the tune of hoping he’s actually heard every personal word she’s just laid bare.

“Kyo… Kyoya—“

“I want you wet.” So close to the start and already he leaves teeth marks just beyond the neckline of the silk blouse that is still nowhere as soft as her skin. Kyoya’s pulse accelerates at the thought of how long he’s been made to hold all of this in.

Kyoya’s gentle when he pulls her up by one arm, both of them still fully clothed as he situates Haruhi in his lap, though this is where said gentility ends.

He grinds into her while one hand steadies Haruhi by the small of her back. Greedily, he drinks her in as he tells her with no uncertainty she wants—needs this for all he plans on doing to her. Meeting him half way, Haruhi spreads her thighs across his lap, then sinks a little lower.

“Then show me.”

\---

A Small While Later…

\---

“You have my word to never bring Tamaki up in the bedroom again.” At this, Haruhi raises her head away from Kyoya’s chest, but simply grins and nestles back into place. “But certainly he hasn’t been the only one.”

It’s fascinating for her to see Kyoya like this; watching the rise and fall of his ribs, while the gleam of his skin is nothing short of intoxicating. His posture is proud even while lying in bed, and Haruhi adds it to the list of quiet pieces of Kyoya’s humanity that’ve always endeared to her.

“No?”

“What about the others?”

“There were only ever two.” She takes an apologetic breath for the past before continuing with her truth. “They were nice, but even then I knew they were for the most part inconsequential. I’ve barely had time for others.”

“Interesting. And yet…”

“—Kyoya.” She knows where he’s going with this, and places a hand against his mouth while pretending not to feel his lips curve upward behind it. “Since the second I met you, I would never have classified you as other.”

It becomes harder to ignore when the movement beneath her palm begins to melt into a demonstration of adoration and bliss. Not that she’s looking to try.


End file.
